


you're just dust, i'm just dust

by cooloutsides



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, College, F/F, Future, Growth, Hurt/Comfort, Sacrifice Chloe Ending, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cooloutsides/pseuds/cooloutsides
Summary: Welcome to the Dead Best Friends Club.It's just you and your high school enemy and each of your (dead) best friends against the world. Or 3000 miles apart. Or six feet under.





	1. that'll be the day

**Author's Note:**

> well... this is not only my first fic on here, but also the first fic i've written and published since middle school.  
> ...i'm in college.
> 
> i don't know how i feel about this, i hope it's alright. i really love chasefield, and i really wanna see where this story takes us.
> 
> title from "too dark" by frankie cosmos.

**(1) New Message From:** Victoria Chase

 

"what's it like?"

 

Max squinted at her computer screen, averting her gaze as she adjusted the brightness. It was pitch black in her room, save for the usual glaring white glow emanating from her desk. It was a wonder how her roommate just… dealt with it. She reluctantly glanced back at the screen, giving the ominous message another once over. 

 

What the fuck was she supposed to say?

 

"Victoria, it's 4 am."

"seven here, Caulfield."

 

Shit. Max had forgotten the three hour time difference that separated them. Even though Blackwell was literally and figuratively miles behind them, it still felt as though Victoria was just across the hall. But this wasn't Blackwell. Valerie was across the hall and... Mackenna? Mackenzie? Whatever. And Max was at her desk while her roommate, Jade, slept like a normal human being. 

 

"Oh yeah :p. What's what like?" 

 

_ Seen by Victoria at 4:10 am.  _

Max didn’t want to wait for her response with bated breath, but what else was she supposed to do? It was four in the morning on a Tuesday; she had nothing better to do. 

 

She hadn’t spoken to Victoria in months. Maybe not since graduation. And here they were, three thousand miles apart, talking again. Max’s stomach nervously fluttered; was it anticipation? Dread? Hope? All of the above? 

 

The little speech bubble popped up for a few seconds before disappearing just as quickly. Before popping up again just as quickly and disappearing and popping up and--

 

"having a dead best friend." 

 

Max's blood ran cold.

She didn't need this. She didn't need Victoria fucking Chase to torment her from across the country. She didn't need Victoria to torment her when she was 10 feet away at Blackwell. She didn't need to be painfully reminded that what's done is done and that Chloe's dead and that it's her fault. 

 

Was this some sort of sick joke?

It had all been one great laugh when Victoria caused Kate to fling herself from the rooftops all those months ago. Except that didn’t happen in this timeline. Kate was here, tangible, alive, living. Max still talked to her all the time. She needed to. She needed to make sure that she was okay in this timeline. 

 

Max was already suffering enough every night. Why else would she be up at 4 am? Chloe was resting eternally; Max didn't deserve sleep. So, she didn't. She stayed up all night. She read photography books. She watched every movie Warren ever recommended twice. She counted every star in the night sky. Anything to keep her eyes open.

Because as soon as she closed them,  _ "bang." _

 

**4:19 am.**

"Fuck you, Victoria." 

**4:30 am.**

"max."

"nathan's dead."

 

* * *

 

Victoria let out the breath she was subconsciously holding and slammed her computer shut. 

 

Inhale.

Exhale.

 

Nathan was so fucking selfish.

 

Victoria knew that she was selfish for even thinking that, but her eyes were welling with tears, threatening to ruin her skillfully applied makeup. 

 

But the heaviness of it all brought out the nihilist in her. 

None of this fucking mattered.

 

The tears began to spout from her eyes and trickle down her cheeks uncontrollably. She bit the back of her hand, trying to muffle the sound of her choked sobs. 

 

It wasn’t fair.

Nathan had promised.

 

He had promised, he had broken that promise, he had left this Earth. 

 

And now Victoria was left here to… deal with it. Like she always dealt with it, ever since they were kids. When nine year old Nathan broke his mother’s antique vase  _ on purpose _ , Victoria cleaned it up. Said it was an accident. Said it wouldn’t happen again. When seventeen year old Nathan got into minor incidents at Blackwell, Victoria bailed him out. Spoke on his behalf. Made him take his meds. It wouldn’t happen again.

 

But when he shot and killed a girl in the school bathroom, what the fuck could she do?

What do you do when your best friend is a lost cause? Broken beyond repair? 

She felt fucking sick. 

 

She wished it had been her. 

She wished that it had been her looking down the barrel; she wished for her blood and guts to be splattered all over the bathroom floor instead of some random’s. 

 

No; instead of Chloe Price’s.

Max’s best friend’s. 

 

She kept quiet. 

 

There wasn’t really much to say, really. Not with the aura of a dead girl lingering overhead like Seattle rain clouds. There was too much on the line. There had always been too much on the line, but now all Victoria could do was worry about herself. Worry about her college career, about her future.

 

She wrote him letters. 

 

She told him she was sorry. Sorry that she hadn’t protected him. Sorry that she had overprotected him. Sorry that she couldn’t come round. 

 

She went round. She visited him.

 

A week before she left for college. She had said goodbye to Taylor; she had said goodbye to Courtney. She couldn’t just pack up and move across the country without saying goodbye to her best friend. No, not her best friend; her brother. No, not her brother; Nathan Prescott. 

 

It was the most bittersweet; a hello and a goodbye all wrapped up into one neat little package. 

 

Nathan had been doing okay, for Nathan at least. 

He was high as a kite.

 

Which was good, she thought. Maybe he needed to be sedated. It felt as if she were talking to a “normal” person… if zombies were normal and the fucking Walking Dead were real. 

 

She kept writing him letters. The postage was a bitch. 

But Nathan was worth it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it.

 

He had promised. 

 

**(1) New Message From:** Maxine Caulfield 

 

“Fuck you, Victoria. What’s it like? You really wanna know what it’s like?

 

It’s like pulling the fire alarm in the girls’ bathroom like a helpless idiot because your best friend’s insides are all over the floor. It’s like waking up every single day knowing that nothing even matters. It’s like knowing that you’re born alone and you die alone and there’s nothing anyone or anything can do to stop it. 

 

Is that good enough for you?” 

 

Ouch. 

When did Max Caulfield grow a fucking spine?

 

No. 

Victoria knew she deserved that. After putting that girl through an entire year of hell, even after her own best friend murdered her best friend, she deserved that. She knew she had a lot of nerve even messaging Max in the first place. They weren’t friends. Victoria knew she didn’t deserve her friendship. 

 

What the fuck was she supposed to say? 

 

She rested her head on her desk in a vain attempt to steady her heart rate. She just had to get through this day. Or at least this class. She… she had promised. After a few beats, she lifted her head and tapped out the best response she could come up with. 

 

“yeah... thanks max.”

 

_ Seen by Max at 8:09 am. _

“Look Victoria, I’m sorry.”

“yeah... me too.”

 


	2. city of angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max and kate against the world.

 

Everyone had been surprised when Max announced that she would be attending UCLA after Blackwell.

 

Max Caulfield… in Los Angeles?

Weird, waif, hipster Max Caulfield? 

In Los Angeles?

Bingo.

 

LA was the opposite of everything that was Max. Not an obscure city for waif hipsters. Not Seattle. Not Arcadia Bay. LA was the home of blondes, traffic, In N Out, and the Kardashians. And now, Max Caulfield. 

 

Max could feel the city in her veins. The slow moving traffic like blood, keeping her going. She saw the doe out the corner of her eye now and then, but it disappeared with every blink.

 

Rachel would’ve loved it here.

Chloe would’ve loved it here. 

That’s why she was here.

 

The city called to her like a siren song; she knew she had to go. For Chloe. For Rachel. She could feel their presence here, urging her to keep going. To live. For them.

 

She could do that.

She could take pictures of the busy streets, the lights, the life. She could take pictures of graffiti, of skateparks, of rampant subculture. 

 

Victoria had never appreciated Max’s polaroids, but if she could see her photos now. Her professors loved them. In a city where everything was digitally retouched, airbrushed, refined to perfection, polaroids were necessary. They were grainy, shadowy, unique. 

 

Yeah, Los Angeles  _ loved _ hipsters. 

 

Max nibbled on her avo toast, looking over her conversation with Victoria again. And again and again and again until her toast was gone and her mind was numb. 

 

She really didn’t know what to make of it. 

 

On one hand, she was completely and utterly  _ sorry _ for her loss. Unfortunately, Max was well aware of what she was going through. And she wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone-- not even her “worst enemy.”

 

On the other hand, Victoria was… a bitch. Or had been a bitch. And Nathan was a murderer. Victoria really didn’t deserve her sympathy, her empathy, none of it. And yet Max was more than willing to give it. 

 

Nobody deserved this. None of it. 

 

Max took a screenshot of the conversation before closing it out and opening up a new one with Kate. Max didn’t want to burden Kate with all of this, but she really needed some guidance. Max didn’t consider herself to be particularly religious, but Kate’s words always hit home. Max didn’t believe in god, but Kate inspired her to believe in a lot of things. 

 

Max sent Kate the screenshot and hoped for the best. 

 

_ Seen by Kate at 10:55 am. _

“...Well  _ jeez _ .” 

 

Max snorted at her friend’s response. That was really one of the few “curse words” Kate ever allowed herself to say. Ever since she had moved to California and started college, Kate had allowed herself to loosen up a bit. She still vehemently refused to say the Lord’s name in vain, but she would drop a modest ‘jeez’ every now and then. She even let her hair down from its tight bun-- and it was surprisingly very long. The dry desert heat also didn’t really allow for cardigans and button downs, so Kate had to mix up her wardrobe a bit, too. 

 

Her parents weren’t so happy.

Max was thrilled.

 

“I’m proud of you, Max. For sticking up for yourself.”

 

Kate was always praising Max; telling her that her work was improving and evolving, telling her that she was getting better, telling her that she was proud of her. It really meant a lot to Max. Kate’s unwavering faith had always helped her to continue pressing forward. It was almost cathartic; Max was one of many people who failed Kate in another life. 

 

Max wanted nothing more than to make her proud. 

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Max had ended up in Pasadena that evening. 

In Kate Marsh’s dorm room.

In Kate Marsh’s arms.

 

Max remembered Kate holding her close at Blackwell, shortly after the storm.

 

“Nobody can play God but God himself,” Kate whispered into Max’s hair, desperately trying to comfort the girl. 

She meant those words, earnestly. She was taught that God worked in mysterious ways; that everything happened for a reason. Life was just… easier when you didn’t question God’s work. It was in His hands. Faith doesn’t allow for many questions.

 

Max couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. For Kate’s sake, she tried her best to mask it as a shallow cough.

 

How fucking ironic. 

If only she knew.

 

The words felt like lead. Loaded. As heavy as the bullet that ravaged its way through Chloe’s body. Max could feel it in her lungs. It hurt to breathe. She didn’t feel like she deserved to. 

 

The thoughts began to race through her mind-- yelling and screaming and warping the very fabric of the universe. She felt the familiar twinge of unbearable pain between her eyebrows. It had been months-- no, nearly a year since she had used her powers. Still, the side effects never seemed to fade.

 

She had played God because she  _ had _ to, didn’t she? She  _ had _ to stop the storm, right? God was on a lunch break-- he said  _ “here Max, watch the universe for me, will ya? Watch it bend and break and crumble and fall.” _

 

Everyone said “it’s not your fault.”

_ Of course _ they said that. They would’ve been dead otherwise.

 

Maybe that would’ve been for the best.

 

Another dry laugh.

 

How come Nathan got to play God? 

A monster turned martyr.

 

“It isn’t fair,” Max whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. Kate hummed and rubbed her back. They both knew Max was right; life wasn’t fair. 

 

It’s still not fair.

The air felt stale and empty. Devoid of life.

Devoid of lives. 

Max was sick of breathing it.

 

* * *

 

 

Kate always had a knack for making Max feel better. She made her believe that there was hope for a better tomorrow and all that. Best of all, she made her a killer cup of tea. 

 

... _ Maybe _ not killer. But it was damn good.

 

“I didn’t ask for any of this to happen,” Max muttered, idly stirring her tea. Things had been going so well, but fall comes again and does exactly that-- falls. Falls to pieces. 

 

“No one did, Max. There’s nothing you can do besides your best.” 

 

The incessant clinking of her spoon against the cup abruptly ceased. 

“Do my best, huh,” Max uttered under her breath, her tone thick with sarcasm. “Every time I try to do my best, someone gets hurt.” 

 

“That’s not true Max and you know it,” Kate began, hushing the brunette quickly before she could even retort. “Besides, you do a great job at being my best friend.” 

 

Max didn’t even have time to offer a sulking response before being wrapped up into a Famous Kate Marsh Hug. She closed her eyes, letting her head lazily rest on the other girl’s shoulder. She inhaled deeply, vainly attempting to let all the dark thoughts dissolve like the sugar in her tea. 

 

Kate truly was a blessing. An angel, really.

 

And that night, as Max sat on the bus back to Los Angeles, watching the streetlights burn against the night sky, she prayed that it would all be better tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even i'm not entirely satisfied with how the dialogue turned out! i will do my best to practice so it's muuuch better in the future.
> 
> can you tell i'm really honest? feel free to be the same with me!


	3. and now you're saying that you need me (right now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria does what she wants.
> 
> Max doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "right now" by haim.

“Well… that’s unfortunate,” Vivian Chase said, her voice almost lost in the background noise. 

 

Victoria let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She didn’t know why she even bothered calling her parents about this. Of course they already knew. Of course they wouldn’t have the decency to offer a modicum of sympathy. They said everything but “I told you so;” Victoria could still hear the sentiment laced in their apathetic voices.

 

“I want to come home for the funeral. I’m going to buy the tickets tonight.”

“Victoria, your father already told you that you are not to come home for--”

“He’s my best friend, mother.”

“You’re not going to throw away your academic career for Nathan Prescott.”

Click. 

 

Victoria opened her laptop and began searching for plane tickets from New York to Seattle. Tickets were a bit pricier than usual, since it was so close to Thanksgiving. Victoria didn’t care; she was using her parent’s credit card anyways. If they could afford it, so could her “academic career.” Which was practically nonexistent, considering that she hadn’t even finished her first semester of college. 

 

Two plane tickets.

Signed, sealed, delivered.

 

Besides, Victoria needed this “vacation.” She needed to escape the city; it was suffocating her. Still, the “west coast girl” was thriving. SVA was an amazing school with an amazing photography program. She knew she had to move across the country to make something of herself. So she’d deal with the skyscrapers and the air pollution and the seasonal depression. 

 

She coped with cigarettes.

New York City didn’t really give a damn about environmentalism nor public health.

 

Victoria considered stopping. To stop giving a damn. That’s why she started cigarettes. Not only did she look “mature” for her age, she also enjoyed every inhale. The way the smoke filled her lungs, the nicotine rush. 

 

Nathan had stopped giving a damn a while ago. She had watched the shift in him. As a child, he had always cared too much, always desperately seeking his father’s approval. But nothing was ever enough for Sean Prescott. By sixteen, Nathan had began to stop caring. It started with little things-- slacking off in a class or two, before progressing into the nefarious. He stopped stopped taking his prescriptions and began self medicating. He didn’t give a fuck about his family or what they thought of him.

 

He became invincible, at least in his own hubristic mind. 

Like Icarus, he met his own demise much too soon. 

 

She took another lazy drag from her cigarette before chucking it to the ground and stamping it out with the heel of her boot. The ashes blended in with the sidewalk, with the rest of the city. An unrelenting, apathetic grayness. 

 

Victoria still cared too much, even though she made a conscious effort to make it seem like she couldn’t care less. But if you watched her closely, you could tell that she put care into every action. The way she checked her email, hourly, never missing an update or reply. The way she carefully put her camera away into her bag, even if she was running late. But she was never running late. She made enough time so she could always take her time so she could be on time. Victoria had always cared, time and time again. 

 

She even put care into her cigarettes.

She bought Marlboro Lights. Less tar. Less of a chance of developing smoker’s lung and you know,  _ dying.  _

 

Victoria reached into her bag, contemplating another cigarette, but grabbed her phone instead. She leaned against the cool brick wall as she checked her compulsively checked her email again. 

 

No new emails.

Everything was in order, as per usual.

 

* * *

 

As Victoria closed her email and went about the rest of her day, Max had just opened hers, idly scrolling through the sea of unopened messages.

 

Oh… what’s this? 

 

Max’s inbox was typically littered with a slough of unopened emails; from her parents, from UCLA, from businesses, from airlines, from everyone. She only really bothered to open the important ones, leaving the rest to sit and rot. She would’ve moved the email from Jetblue Airlines to her trashbin if it hadn’t said ‘Confirmation’ in the subject line.

 

Wait  _ what _ ?!

 

Max hadn’t been on a plane in years. Not for any particular reason besides not having much time to travel. She had spent the last few years along the West coast; she didn’t have anywhere to fly to. She still didn’t have anywhere to fly to because she wasn’t going anywhere. Sure, Thanksgiving break was around the corner, but she wasn’t planning on flying up to Seattle. That was out of her budget as a college student forward slash “starving artist.”

 

She hadn’t bought plane tickets.

 

She anxiously opened the message, reading over the content of the email with wide eyes. There was her name; there was her seat number; there was her destination to Seattle, Washington, merely days away. 

 

But hadn’t bought plane tickets to Seattle.

 

How could this happen? Her parents would have let her know that they had bought her plane tickets in advance, wouldn’t they? Was this one of those situations where someone hacked into her bank account? Those kinds of things only happened in the movies, didn’t they? Max nervously opened her bank account, reading over the details in her statement. She had never really bothered checking her bank statements before, so she wasn’t entirely sure what to be looking for. Except this was an emergency and she’d notice if all her money had vanished for a pair of plane tickets. 

 

But everything was in order.

Max was still broke, but it wasn’t because of the plane tickets.

 

Then how the  _ hell _ did she score plane tickets?

 

Max chewed her lip while looking over the email again and again, trying to piece together any missed clues. Nothing. Wait. She clicked on the ticket inside the email and was then redirected to the company website. There was her ticket again with all the same details. Except this time, this ticket said ‘Ticket 1 of 2’ and displayed an arrow next to it. Curious, Max clicked the arrow.

 

And her jaw dropped. 

 

_ What the actual fu--  _

 

Max grabbed her phone from beside her laptop, frantically scrolling through her contacts list. She paused briefly, her fingertips hovering over the highlighted name. Had she ever used this number before? Had they ever spoken on the phone? She decided it didn’t matter; she’d have time to ponder this dilemma later. But first, she needed to rectify this situation. She decidedly hit the call button, placing the phone up to her ear. She nervously chewed at her lip as the phone rang and rang.

 

Pick up, pick up, pick u--

 

“What the actual  _ fuck _ , Caulfield. I have class, you know.”

 

Ah, classic Victoria Chase. 

 

Max exhaled, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to muster up some confidence. “Nice to hear from you too, Victoria,” she breathed out, trying to steady her heartbeat. 

 

She knew there was no reason to be worried; they both went to different schools on opposite sides of the country. Victoria was a high school bully that Max didn’t have to deal with anymore-- there was no reason to be afraid. And yet, Max felt a frog trying to crawl its way up her throat.

 

“Hellllooo? Earth to hippy? What do you want? I  _ said _ that I have class… And you  _ still _ don’t.”

 

Real nice, Victoria. 

 

Max snapped out of her stupor at the sound of Victoria’s voice, her tone tinged with its typical amount of malice. “Look… Victoria,” Max began, her voice quavering a bit. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Did you.. Did you happen to buy a plane ticket for me? For… uh, us?”

 

A beat.

Max could hear rustling on the other end of the line, followed by a few sniffs.

 

“Oh. Yeah… I did,” Victoria responded, after a noticeable pause. 

 

Max opened her mouth to respond, but Victoria beat her to it. 

 

“I hope that’s okay,” Victoria continued, her voice sounding soft. Small, even. 

 

Max blinked. When did Victoria  _ ever _ ask her opinion? She had never cared to before. 

 

“I… uh,” Max started, awkwardly stumbling over her words. She didn’t have a clue as to how to respond. 

 

Victoria sensed Max’s unsteadiness and took it as an opportunity to explain herself. “Look… They’re having Nathan’s funeral up in Seattle, and I… I don’t-- I can’t go by myself,” Victoria explained, her voice trailing off at the end. 

 

Max had learned not to question the universe, but why? Why Max? Why couldn’t Taylor or Courtney or the rest of Blackwell’s Vortex Club accompany Victoria? They were all friends with Nathan, at least back in high school. Max, on the other hand, never knew Nathan apart from Chloe’s murderer. The thought of going to pay her respects made her sick.

 

But on the other hand, Victoria sounded so small over the phone. Vulnerable. This was a side of Victoria that Max had never seen, at least not in this reality. 

 

“Max? Are you still there?”

“Yeah… sorry Victoria,” Max quickly apologized, snapping back to reality. “I don’t really know what to say,” she sheepishly admitted as her forehead fell to her palm. 

 

“I understand,” Victoria responded. 

 

Silence. 

 

That’s it? That’s all she had to say?

What had New York City done to Victoria Chase?

 

“Victoria… can I think about it? I need some time,” Max offered, not knowing what else to do.

 

“Alright-- I mean, sure, Max. Think about it, sleep on it, whatever. It’s up to you,” Victoria hastily began, fumbling over her own words a bit. “Just… let me know as soon as you can. Thanks again, Max. Talk to you soon.”

 

Click. 

She didn’t even give Max a chance to respond.

 

Max set down her phone before dropping her head into her hands. 

 

Why universe, why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry for taking a bit to update! 
> 
> i'm transitioning back in to ~home life~, which means working nearly full time instead of being a student.
> 
> updates should be often, but probably not on a regular schedule. the next chapter's nearly done.
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	4. wishes outta airplanes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'airplanes' by b.o.b (corny, i know lmao)

Max graciously accepted her packet of peanuts and can of Coke before settling back into her seat.

 

She didn’t know they were still allowed to serve peanuts on airplanes. What about peanut allergies? She shrugged the thought out of her mind, tearing open a corner of the packet before popping a few into her mouth. It didn’t really matter; Max didn’t have a peanut allergy, and peanuts somehow tasted way better 35,000 feet in the air.

 

Soon, Max would be touching down in Seattle.

 

She had taken some time, she had given it some thought. A lot of thought, actually. Kate was rather appalled, but still supportive. She was mostly concerned about Max getting scorned once again by Victoria and Max shared that concern. But something about this situation felt… different. Victoria had sounded so vulnerable on the phone; Max had never heard her sound like that in her life. It was a new side to Victoria that she was never allowed to see. That no one was ever allowed to see.

 

Max thought a lot about what Chloe would have wanted. She questioned if it was even her place to have such thoughts-- she didn’t know the Chloe that died, not really. She wasn’t supposed to know her; she only knew her in a different timeline, in a different life. Still, she couldn’t help but think about what _her_ Chloe would have wanted. It felt a bit wrong going to Nathan Prescott’s funeral-- an event where his life would be celebrated and mourned. Because of him, Max was forced to mourn her childhood best friend. Nathan didn’t deserve her grievances.

 

Nathan didn’t deserve shit.

 

Still, she knew that Chloe would want Max to be a good friend.

Chloe needed Max to be there for her after losing her dad. She needed Max to keep in touch as they grew older and navigated life. Chloe needed Max for years and years and Max just wasn’t there. Max knew that she had failed Chloe, and now she was gone. She had to live with that for the rest of her life.

 

So she called Victoria and told her that she would pay her back for the plane tickets as soon as she could. Victoria assured her that she wouldn’t have to pay; she was just happy that Max had agreed to go with her.

 

Max knew she had made the right decision.

 

* * *

 

Victoria’s flight was going less than smoothly.

 

She was used to the comforts and luxuries that came with traveling first class, but for this flight, she was stuck in coach. Her parents definitely would notice hundreds of dollars missing from their account if she had splurged on two, round trip flights in first class. But they’d never miss the money she spent on this coach tickets. And that’s all that mattered.

 

She also didn’t want to freak Max out more than she had already. She didn’t have to ask-- she already knew that the girl had barely flown in airplane before, let alone first class. This entire ordeal was a bit of a shock to Max; Victoria didn’t wanna add culture shock to the mix, too.

 

Victoria tried to make herself comfortable in the seat flanked by two large men on either side. She shifted uncomfortably, closing in on herself in a vain attempt to make herself smaller. Normally, she’d already be fast asleep on her flight, poised to wake up rejuvenated in her hometown. But she knew damn well that she wasn’t getting a wink of sleep on this flight.

 

She huffed, pursing her lips as she pulled a book out of her purse. Maybe reading would help. Except her mind couldn’t focus on anything besides the upcoming events in Seattle.

 

How would her parents react to seeing her? They explicitly instructed her not to come home for this, but here she was, merely hours away. How would Max handle this whole situation? It was selfish of Victoria to ask her to come, but she needed someone to be there for her. Someone she could actually depend on.

 

Was it morally wrong to ask the girl she bullied in high school to be there for her in her time of need? When her best friend murdered Max’s best friend?

 

Yes, yes it was. Victoria knew that.

And she would give Max the apology she deserved, even if it was long overdue.

 

She hoped Max would accept it.

She knew Max would accept it. Because that’s the kind of person Max Caulfield was. Victoria barely knew Max, but she did notice a few things while watching the girl from afar at Blackwell. She was so… forgiving. So kind, so helpful, so thoughtful.

 

Everything Victoria wasn’t.

 

She was going to hold a grudge against Nathan for years, even though he was already dead. Nearly six feet under. She shuddered at the thought, quickly steeling herself so she wouldn’t cry on the plane.

 

Enough.

Her fingertips itched towards her purse, begging for a cigarette. Cigarettes always helped when the intrusive thoughts came flooding in.

 

Inhale.

Exhale.

 

As Victoria focused on steadying her breathing, the flight attendant began down the aisle, offering various snacks and beverages.

 

“Miss, can I offer you anything? Miss?”

 

Victoria didn’t even realize she had closed her eyes until she was nudged awake by the man next to her. She was poised to snarl at him and give him a piece of her mind when she made eye contact with the attendant’s patient gaze.

 

“A bloody mary, please. Hold the peanuts,” Victoria demanded, thrusting her fake id to the attendant’s hand. Sure, there was no way in hell she was 24 going on 25, but she needed this. The flight attendant knew she needed this. Everyone on the goddamn flight knew that she needed this.

 

So the flight attendant complied.

 

And after two, very strong cocktails, Victoria Chase was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest! 
> 
> still, it feels pretty complete to me. i didn't want to add more just for the sake of having a longer chapter.
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	5. under the crack in the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "sappho" by frankie cosmos.

Max knew she should’ve called her parents before coming home unannounced. 

 

She knew she shouldn’t surprise them like this, but she didn’t want to inconvenience them. She didn’t want them to freak out or take time off work or worry about picking her up from the airport.

 

She was able to avoid all of those things, except the former. 

She even paid 12 dollars for an Uber to her house, albeit reluctantly. 

 

Max nervously scuffed her feet against the porch as she waited for her parents to answer the door. She checked the pockets of her jeans again, expecting to find a tiny silver key.

 

She didn’t find it. 

Max never knew where her keys were.

 

“Who is it?” a familiar voice muffled by the door bellowed from inside the home.

Max smiled in anticipation. It had been so long since she had heard her parents’ voices in person-- they somehow sounded even better. More authentic. 

 

Before she could offer a response, the front door swung open revealing a burly man with a beard. A man Max knew all too well.

“Hi, Dad,” she sheepishly offered, throwing him her signature Max Caulfield grin.

 

“Maxine?! What are you doi--” Ryan Caulfield began, before being interrupted by a bear hug from his daughter. Max had always left him speechless, and this encounter was no exception. Picking his jaw up from off the floor, he returned his daughter’s hug. “Hi, Sweetie.” 

 

Max could hear footsteps coming down the hallway, so she stood on her tiptoes to see over her dad’s shoulder. Soon, Vanessa Caulfield came into view; her mouth gaping like her husband’s once her eyes locked with her daughter’s own clear blues.

 

“Maxine?! Ryan, what’s going on?”

 

“It’s Max, guys… remember? Never Maxine,” Max teased with a chuckle, breaking free from her father to envelop her mother. 

 

After greeting her doting parents, Max was left with inquisitive eyes. She knew she’d have to explain herself; she just had to figure out how to do it without upsetting her parents.

 

“I promise I’ll explain myself,” Max began, before offering her parents another charming smile. “But can we eat first? Airplane peanuts can only curb my hunger for so long.”

 

* * *

 

Victoria  _ knew _ her parents knew that she wasn’t going to listen to them and come home regardless.

 

And yet… they were still mad. 

No, not mad. 

_ Enraged. _

 

Victoria sat at the kitchen table, idly scrolling through various apps on her phone while her parents ranted and raved. She figured that there was no sense in arguing back-- it was a lost cause. Arguments in the Chase household were like fighting a losing battle; for once, not a single member would “win.”

 

Unless winning meant bringing someone to tears with words better left unsaid.

Victoria had taken  _ way _ too much time applying her makeup just to ruin it with tears. 

 

“Do you know how reckless you’re being?” Her father spat, pacing around the marble island. 

 

“And what about your  _ image _ , Victoria? What will others think?” Her mother continued, blindly backing up her husband.

 

“She’s not even listening,” Michael Chase realized, his eyes lowering onto his daughter as his blood pressure raised and flooded to his face. He slammed a glass against the counter, causing Victoria’s eyes to snap up and meet his own. “Do you even  _ care _ ?” he snarled.

 

Well, that certainly got her attention. Maybe even struck a nerve or two.

 

Of course she cared. She cared too much. 

Just like her parents. They created this monster. 

This monster that they now hated.

 

Victoria gritted her teeth together in a vain attempt to steel herself and combat the tears welling in her eyes. Once she had gained a modicum of composure, she lifted herself from her seat, grabbing her bag as she turned her back. 

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Vivian Chase yelled at her daughter’s back. 

 

“Out,” Victoria simply responded, not even turning around to face her parents. Her voice was quiet, yet confident. She’d show them.

 

And with that, she sauntered out the front door, letting it slam behind her.

 

* * *

 

After Max had run out of things to talk about with her parents and her stomach was full of her favorite foods, she figured it was time to talk about why she was here. Not from a super deep, philosophical viewpoint ( _ but really-- why are any of us here? _ ) but from a physical viewpoint. Like why was she in Seattle right at this moment when she was supposed to be in Los Angeles.

 

Max awkwardly cleared her throat before starting the conversation. “Did I uh, ever mention a Victoria Chase to you guys?”

 

The Caulfields shared a perplexed look with each other before turning back to their daughter and shaking their heads.

 

“No… but that name does sound familiar,” Vanessa offered, racking her brain in the process.

 

“Her parents own the ‘Chase Space’ that’s downtown,” Max offered. “Anyways I um, went to Blackwell with her.”

 

“Is she your girlfriend?” Ryan blurted out, before quickly covering his mouth. Vanessa gave him a stern look in response, pursing her own lips. 

 

“Dad, what the…? No! Absolutely not!” Max hurriedly began, refuting her father’s accusations. This wasn’t how she imaged  _ that _ talk going, yet here they were. She’d save that conversation for a different time. 

 

Did they even need to have that conversation? 

 

Max snapped out of her scattered thoughts once she realized her parents were staring at her expectantly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. What I  _ meant _ to say was that she’s my… uh, we weren’t even friends back then.” Max still wasn’t sure if they were friends now. 

 

Her parents still looked confused. In fact, they looked confused for the entirety of the conversation. Max had to explain how Victoria was Nathan’s best friend and how he had killed Chloe who was Max’s best friend and how Victoria was awful to Max at Blackwell and how she had called her and needed her and bought her plane tickets and and and… 

 

Max realized that none of this made sense. 

No matter how many ways she tried to phrase it or oversimplify it, it wasn’t going to make sense. 

 

Max sighed in defeat, looking down at her feet. “I just wanna do the right thing, you know?” 

 

Vanessa wrapped her arms around her daughter, pulling her close before planting a kiss on her cheek. “You’re a wonderful person, Max,” she began, comforting her daughter. “Not only that, but you’re a wonderful friend. Victoria is lucky to have you.”

 

“And what happened at Blackwell doesn’t matter,” Ryan chimed in. “Well… it does but it… the point is that things are different than now. It’s only up from here.” 

 

Max let out a chuckle, her shoulders lightly shaking in her mother’s arms. Leave it to her parents to sound like they were coming right out of an episode from  _ Full House _ . Still, Max knew it was exactly what she needed to hear. She needed all the love, support, and strength she could get right now.

 

And she was going to try her best to pay it all forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually had a really hard time starting this chapter after i finished chapter four! but i'm surprisingly really satisfied with the direction it took-- i hope y'all are too! 
> 
> sorry for taking a while to post; chapter 6 should be up shortly after this one!
> 
> also! there was another part to this chapter that followed the ending from Victoria's pov, but... it didn't seem to fit. maybe i'll add a section of discarded parts at the end of the entire fic.


	6. you're a slave to your mind, break free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "Something to Believe in" by Young the Giant

Max had a dream about Chloe. 

Max always had dreams about Chloe. But this one was different.

 

In the dream, Max and Chloe were about 13 years old. This life felt all too familiar; Max had traveled to this age a bit over a year ago in a horribly skewed timeline. Chloe’s dad had just died, and the Caulfield’s car was packed with all of their belongings for Seattle. They were standing at the lighthouse where a strawberry blonde, freckle faced Chloe Price was crying, begging Max not to go. Max turned to see her family’s car parked at the edge of the woods. 

 

And next to the car, the omnipotent doe. 

 

Max grabbed Chloe’s noticeably smaller hand in her own and led her to the car, jumping in the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and she began to follow the mysterious doe down the road. 

 

(At this point, Max was  _ entirely _ sure that she was dreaming. If 19 year old Max didn’t even have her learner’s permit, then there was no way in  _ hell _ that 13 year old Max could drive without well,  _ dying _ .)

 

The doe barrelled down the road, leading the duo to a quaint church in the center of town. Thirteen year old Super Max expertly parked the car before following the doe up the steps and inside. 

 

Max had sworn that Chloe had been following closely behind her, but once inside the church, she could see her lanky figure knelt over an open casket, her thin shoulders shaking softly with sobs. Everyone turned around in their respective pew as the door slammed shut behind Max, locking her inside. 

 

All eyes on Max. 

She nervously made her way down the center aisle, keeping her eyes glued on her best friend. Once at the front, she could clearly see William Price’s mangled corpse lying lifelessly in the casket. She guiltily averted her gaze, her eyes falling at her feet as she reached Chloe. Max reached out her hand to comfort her best friend, but before she could touch her, she disappeared.

 

Max looked around, dumbfounded, before her eyes settled on a much older Chloe Price laying in the coffin in which her father once rested. She was noticeably taller than adolescent Chloe, with bright blue hair. Around her neck was a necklace with three bullet casings.

 

And on her torso, a single gunshot wound. 

 

“What the fuck are  _ you _ doing here?!” Chloe shouted, her previously lifeless corpse suddenly animated.

 

Max didn’t even realize that she had been sobbing. The young girl looked around the church nervously, tears continuously streaming down her cheeks. She noticed that she recognized every person in every pew-- the entirety of the Blackwell student population was sat behind her. 

 

Her focus snapped back to the horrific scene before her, only to see Chloe’s body displaced from her coffin.

Instead, the corpse of Nathan Prescott was inside. 

 

Max desperately scanned the church with her eyes, in a vain attempt to find her best friend. Her feet felt like lead. Her mouth was drying up, but her eyes had a continuous flow going. 

 

Before, the sound of a pin dropping could be heard inside the crowded church, but now, it was tumultuous. Deafening, even.

 

Nineteen year old Chloe appeared beside Max once again, shouting the same sentence over and over again in her face. 

 

_ “What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?!”  _

 

The crowd began to shout the sentence as well, their eyes black and boring into Max’s soul. Even the doe had become anthropomorphic, demonizing Max as well. 

 

Max turned to run back down the aisle and get the hell out of the church. She was going as fast as her adolescent legs would take her-- tripping and stumbling along the way as the crowd attempted to close in on her. Max was nearly at the large double doors when a small voice called out from behind her. 

 

“Max… please…”

 

She was so close from escaping; so close to freedom. Yet she turned, almost against her own will.

 

The massive crowd that once filled the church was no longer. Pews upon pews that were once filled were now suddenly empty. At the front of the building, thirteen year old Chloe was sat on the ground, her lanky figure hunched over itself. It was clear that she had been crying. 

 

She looked so small, so vulnerable. 

She looked exactly how Max felt in that moment.

 

“Please, stay,” Chloe called out, her eyes locking onto Max’s.

 

* * *

 

 

Max’s eyes snapped open, jolting her awake. 

 

She had had a dream about Chloe.

Well, not a dream. More of a nightmare. 

 

Usually, waking up involved opening her eyes with a groggy haze and stumbling around in a sleep-deprived stupor, but not today.

 

Max felt wide awake.

Not particularly refreshed, but awake. 

Aware. 

 

Today was Nathan Prescott’s funeral. 

 

The apprehension that had been bubbling in her stomach for a while suddenly felt resolute. She wasn’t nervous about today. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

 

And that was okay.

Chloe had begged her to stay. Max could honor that. 

 

She went through the motions of the day, her mannerisms lacking her typically positive, Max-like energy. She got out of bed. She showered. Brushed her teeth, did her hair. Dressed in all black. Went downstairs.

 

Ryan and Vanessa were awaiting their daughter’s arrival to the kitchen; all of Max’s favorite breakfast foods were sprawled out across the table. They picked up on their daughter’s quietness, but respected it. Max had a tendency to be a quiet person, but rarely around the people she loved. 

 

They knew today was going to be a difficult day for her. 

They silently supported her.

 

The Caulfield family ate their breakfast in relative silence, only breaking to engage in meaningless small talk. It was much too early to talk about anything deep or profound. In times like these, it was best to keep everything lighthearted. 

 

Everything was relatively peaceful until the sound of a car horn blared in their driveway. Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield politely excused themselves to uncover the source of the disturbance. It was early and their neighborhood was usually pretty quiet. They figured that one of Max’s old friends must’ve gotten word that she was in town. Fernando was known for being a bit rowdier than usual. 

 

Ryan Caulfield opened the door, and in his driveway sat a silver Mercedes Benz parked behind their own humble Subaru. Last time they checked, the Caulfields weren’t well acquainted with anyone who drove around luxury cars.

 

Inside the car was a girl dressed in all black with a blonde pixie cut and sunglasses. 

 

Max joined her parents at the door, wondering what was taking them so long. Her blue eyes widened at the sight of Victoria parked in her driveway, daring to honk the horn once more. Max wordlessly kissed her parents goodbye before hurriedly jumping in the passenger’s seat, shutting the door behind her. 

 

“Victoria,” Max began, before realizing that tears were streaming beneath her lavish, oversized sunglasses. Max swallowed, focusing her eyes forward as Victoria backed out of the driveway and onto the road. 

 

The ride was relatively silent, save for the rap music blasting from the audio system in a vain attempt to drown out Victoria’s sniffles. Max knew when to keep her mouth shut. 

 

This was one of those times.

At some point during the ride, perhaps between  _ “Fancy” _ and  _ “A Milli,” _ Max’s hand found Victoria’s. And by the third verse of the latter song, her thumb began to idly stroke the back of Victoria’s hand. 

 

By the time  _ “Super Bass” _ began to play, their car had reached the venue. 

 

Nathan’s funeral.

 

Victoria swiftly turned the car off, pulling the key from the ignition. Her hand reached out for the door handle, but she didn’t move. Her other hand was being held hostage under Max’s. Neither girl said anything; they just sat there, staring at the statuesque building ahead of them.

 

Max realized that she was still stroking the back of Victoria’s hand and quickly yanked it away, softly muttering an apology. She swore she could hear Victoria inhale sharply through her nose, but before she could process it, the blonde was already outside the car. Max quickly followed suit, not wanting to aggravate Victoria. 

 

Not ever really, but especially not today. 

 

Max obediently followed Victoria to where she was standing on the sidewalk, apprehensive about the events that were about to unfold. She didn’t know what to expect, but such was life. She couldn’t just mess around with time and rewind until everything was perfect. Not this time. 

 

Max hadn’t even realized that she was zoning out. Several other attendees donned in black passed them by, heading into the funeral in waves. Normally, Victoria would’ve snapped at her by now; called her “Lamefield” or some other creative insult. But this time, Victoria silently grabbed Max’s hand and interlaced their fingers before dragging the smaller girl into the venue. 

 

Victoria always had a way of snapping Max back to reality. 

And today was no exception. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, this was a super fun chapter to write! i hope it's fun to read as well :^)
> 
> the songs on Victoria's playlist were Fancy by Iggy Azaelia, A Milli by Lil Wayne, and Super Bass by Nicki Minaj. i almost forgot that this fic takes place in fall of 2014 so the music choices were.... iffy lmfao. 
> 
> thanks again for reading!


	7. why do you sing with me at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'delicate' by damien rice.

Max didn’t really consider herself to be an expert on funerals, but she had been to her fair share. 

 

She was too young to really remember her grandma’s. She remembered being confused about why everyone was crying.

 

She blocked out Mr. Price’s-- everything from that period in her life was now a blur.

 

She remembered Chloe’s all too well. It was heartfelt. Joyce really loved her only daughter, and even though Chloe despised him, so did David. Max remembers crying for hours and hours on end. She still cried sometimes.

 

Nathan’s funeral was well… a  _ funeral _ . 

Lots of black. Lots of disembodied sobbing. Maybe a few prayers here and there. 

 

But Max felt somehow more uncomfortable than usual. She didn’t feel as if she belonged in the front row with the Prescotts or the Chases or the other incredibly wealthy families weeping over the loss of Nathan. She didn’t just stick out because her dress was from TJ Maxx instead of Gucci; she also stuck out because she didn’t shed a single tear. She just silently sat in the front row, still stroking the back of Victoria’s hand with her thumb. 

 

Max cautiously peered down the pew to where the Prescott family was sat and realized they weren’t really crying either. A young woman who looked vaguely like Nathan was, as was an older woman, but not Sean Prescott. He sat through the service with rigid posture and stony expression. Even when he stood to speak of his son it was incredibly terse.

 

Max shifted uncomfortably in her seat for the umpteenth time. 

 

Eventually Victoria stood to speak, to her parents’ own dissatisfaction. The statuesque blonde carefully walked to the front of the room, putting on her usual air of confidence. Max could tell that she was using all the strength she could possibly muster. She took a deep breath before she began to speak, steadying herself. Max could tell that she had practiced her speech a million times; each word was articulate, heartfelt. Victoria’s voice was steady and cool. She quavered a bit at times, but Max was the only one to notice. Her eyes welled up with tears, but she quickly blinked them back, forging on without missing a beat.

 

It was beautiful. 

It was all too reminiscent. 

 

Victoria ended her speech by wishing Nathan farewell and somberly returned to her seat. 

 

“That was beautiful, Vic,” Max whispered as the blonde slid in next to her. 

 

Victoria grabbed her hand, giving it a thankful squeeze as she began to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Victoria refused to let go of Max’s hand the entire day. She knew it was selfish, but the other girl didn’t seem to mind. She noticed her parents’ eyes narrow in on the gesture, but Victoria could care less. She didn’t have enough time or energy to deal with her parents’ bullshit. Especially not today.

 

And like, friends held hands  _ all  _ the time. 

If Taylor were here, she’d be holding hands with her.

(Except Taylor  _ definitely _ would give her a weird look and shrug her off). 

 

They followed the procession to the top of the hill where the Prescott family mausoleum loomed over them. The structure was nearly as large as one of the family’s many houses, except it was full of dead people. 

 

Victoria shuddered. 

 

Nathan wouldn’t have wanted this. But what could she say? He hadn’t even given her a chance to say goodbye, let alone organize his final arrangements. She didn’t have the right nor the balls to tell his parents what he really wanted. It wasn’t her place to tell them that he wanted to be cremated and spread out over all of his favorite childhood places. It wasn’t her place to tell them that he didn’t want a gaudy funeral full of sobbing distant relatives. 

 

And now this was his place. 

A marked grave next to his great-aunt Ethel. 

 

Victoria shuddered (again). 

Max asked her if she was okay for the millionth time today.

 

Victoria knew she was selfish. She knew she didn’t deserve Max’s kindness-- not today, not ever. But Max didn’t seem to mind at all; she seemed genuine each time she asked. She didn’t grow exasperated or bored; she stood by Victoria’s side. Strong. Unwavering. Better than all of her other “friends” who didn’t bother to show. 

 

Victoria was grateful.

She hoped Max knew that.

 

* * *

 

Victoria was enraged.

Max knew that. 

 

The Chase family was heavily involved in a screaming match in the middle of the cemetery parking lot. Everyone else passed by with an air of nonchalance, seemingly unbothered. 

 

On the other hand, this was  _ by far _ the most uncomfortable Max had been all day.

 

“I’m not fucking going there!” Victoria insisted, getting in her mother’s face. She had a couple of inches over her mom, but Vivian Chase didn’t appear to be one to back down. 

 

Max had gathered that the Chases were forcing Victoria to come home and review her projects from this semester instead of joining the Prescotts for dinner. 

Victoria of course, did not want to comply. Max didn’t really blame her. 

She didn’t really like Mr. and Mrs. Chase.

 

“Since you’re in town, we think it’s best that we sit down and review your work at the  _ Space _ ,” Michael Chase continued, his voice resolute. They spoke to Victoria as if she were a petulant child. Sure, she was  _ their _ child, but she was an adult. Nearly twenty years old. 

 

“You know, that’s really funny,” Victoria spat, her hazel eyes glowing with rage. “Because just a few days ago, you didn’t even want me home.”

 

Mr. and Mrs. Chase were at a loss for words. 

Albeit briefly. 

 

Victoria’s parents continued their argument, completely unaware and unashamed of the scene they were causing. 

 

Max awkwardly stood in the center of it all, eyes glued to her feet.

Eventually, Victoria just huffed, grabbed Max’s hand and stormed off towards her car. Thank God. 

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Vivian Chase yelled as Victoria unlocked her car, sliding inside. 

 

She received the slam of her daughter’s car door as a response. 

 

Victoria sped off down the road, leaving her parents behind her to fume. Once they were safely down the road, she peeked out the corner of her eye to find Max staring at her.

 

“Wowzer…” the brunette began, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.

 

To her surprise, Victoria let out a laugh. Not just a laugh, but a giggle. Max was never privy to this side of Victoria-- she couldn’t help but laugh herself. The duo laughed all the way down the road, a silent understanding between them. 

 

Eventually, Victoria began to pull into an unfamiliar driveway on the other side of town. Max thought she was returning home but it seemed that Victoria had other plans in store. Her Mercedes Benz smoothly pulled into one of the multiple garages and Victoria hopped out of the car.

 

So this was the Chase house. Estate? Mansion? Villa? 

It was humongous. 

 

Victoria leaned against her car, searching through her phone. 

Four unread text messages, three missed calls, two voicemails. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

 

She exasperatedly put her phone to her ear, rolling her eyes as she heard her mother’s voicemail. She locked her phone, tossing it in her bag, not even bothering to listen to the second one. 

 

Max didn’t say anything. Just watched Victoria from afar hesitantly. 

 

“C’mon,” Victoria beckoned, leading the other girl into her house. 

 

The interior was somehow even more impressive than the exterior.

Actually, it paled in comparison. 

 

Max followed Victoria through the expansive hallways of her house, careful not to scuff the floors or dirty the rugs. Her blue eyes widened as she took in all the beautiful photographs adorning the walls. 

 

All of the photographs that weren’t good enough for the Chase Space. 

 

“You can stay here, I won’t be too long,” Victoria said with a small smile before turning and heading upstairs. Max took this as an opportunity to do what she does best: snoop around. She found herself awestruck and envious by the amount of photographs in their house. They weren’t just stock photos in cheap frames and corny family photographs; they were some of the best works from some of the world’s best photographers. 

 

Actually, there weren’t any family photos at all. 

 

Max hadn’t noticed that Victoria was taking a long time until she realized she’d already admired every piece of art on the first floor. Apprehensively, she began to climb the staircase to the second floor-- not only to be nosy, but to also check on Victoria. She followed the photos lining the walls, admiring each and every one, before pausing in front of a door at the end of the hallway. It was slightly ajar; Max could hear sniffling coming from inside. 

 

She carefully pushed open the door, revealing Victoria at her desk, facing away. Her hands were repeatedly running through her short blonde hair, grasping at strands and pulling. The sniffles and sobs were more audible now.

 

Victoria was crying.

 

“Victoria, I…-” Max began, her feet firmly planted at Victoria’s doorway.

 

The blonde quickly whipped around in her chair, wiping the tears from her eyes in vain.

“Can I stay with you?” She asked abruptly, interrupting Max before an apology could even form on her lips. 

 

Max simply nodded, eyes wide and mouth agape. At her confirmation, Victoria quickly stood, grabbing her bags and throwing in every item of clothing in sight. Shortly thereafter, she grabbed Max’s hand, leading her out of her room, down the stairs, and out the door. 

 

Victoria threw her bags in the back seat of the car before slamming the door shut. 

She didn’t care. 

 

Once settled into the car, she glanced over at Max.

“Ready?” Victoria asked, her voice small and unsure. 

“Ready,” Max replied, grinning over at the blonde. And with that, Victoria pulled out of the driveway and peeled down the road. 

 

And during the entire ride, she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she didn’t deserve Max. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever kind of... hate a chapter that you know you have to write?   
> well, that's how i feel/felt about this one. entirely necessary, but probably not the most exciting to read or write. 
> 
> nevertheless, i hope you enjoy!


	8. home is wherever i'm with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'home' by edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros.

Max’s parents were nice. 

And that was an understatement.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield both wasted no time in enveloping Victoria in a hug once she was welcomed inside of their home. Victoria couldn’t even remember the last time she’d hugged her own parents. Her thin frame noticeably tensed at the gesture, but out of reflex. She wasn’t wired to show affection. This was foreign.

 

But not unpleasant. 

Not at all. 

 

“We’ve heard so much about you, Victoria,” Vanessa cooed, beaming up at the blonde. Victoria noticed Max’s eyes go wide in her peripheral and she couldn’t help but smirk. She’d tease her about it later. 

 

“Good things, I hope,” Victoria responded, her voice a little uncertain. Her uncertainty was assuaged by Vanessa’s vehement nodding and she couldn’t help but smile. Max was too kind. She could’ve told her parents all the awful things Victoria subjected her to at Blackwell but she… didn’t. 

 

The Caulfields didn’t dwell on the negatives in life.

 

Victoria was given a tour of their humble abode, which was admittedly nicer than she expected. Humble, quaint, and cozy-- like Max. But still nice. It wasn’t lavishly decked out like the Chase Estate, which somehow made it feel  _ more _ like home. Baby pictures of Max lined the wall instead of Warhols. Victoria couldn’t help but giggle at the silly pictures of little Max; she hadn’t changed much over the years. Same bangs, same freckles, same eyes, same shiteating grin.

 

At dinner, conversation was lighthearted and casual. Max’s parents didn’t hesitate to bombard Victoria with a billion questions, but from a place of genuine curiosity. When Victoria’s parents bombarded anyone with questions, it was from a place of scrutiny. Victoria didn’t feel as if she was under a microscope; she didn’t worry about saying the right thing and didn’t fear saying the wrong thing. For once, she was having a conversation, not an interview. 

 

The Caulfields really listened to what others had to say. They made eye contact, they laughed, they reacted. Victoria felt…  _ comfortable _ . She laughed when Max’s parents started telling embarrassing stories about their daughter. Max’s cheeks burned red, but she still couldn’t hide her smile. 

 

The energy;

The positivity was refreshing. 

Infectious, even. 

Victoria couldn’t get enough of it.

 

* * *

 

“My favorites are on the top shelf and the rest are on the bottom,” Max explained, leaving Victoria to her own devices. Victoria squatted so she was level with the shelves and began to sift through the top shelf.

 

“ _ The Tale of Despereaux? _ Really Max?” Victoria said with a snort, raising an eyebrow at the other girl. Max scoffed and began to explain herself, but Victoria just turned away, rolling her eyes. 

 

Victoria had to admit that Max genuinely had good taste in film. There were classics in there, as well as more modern stuff. And of course, weird hipster indie films. She spotted some of her own favorites amongst the crowd, pulling them out for consideration. 

 

“Alright.  _ Princess Mononoke _ or  _ Kill Bill _ ?” Victoria asked, holding up two of her favorite films.

 

Max snorted in response. “You’re really making me choose between Miyazaki and Tarantino?” Max asked shaking her head. She didn’t even know Victoria was a Ghibli fan. At the quirk of Victoria’s eyebrow, the brunette settled on a choice. “Mononoke, you  _ weeb _ .” The last bit caused Victoria to scoff, which only prompted Max to erupt in giggles. Eventually, even Victoria had to join her (because really, Max  _ wasn’t _ wrong). 

 

Victoria popped the movie into the DVD player before hitting the lights and joining Max on her bed. The two girls sat at opposite ends of Max’s twin sized bed. The darkness of her bedroom contrasted with the twinkle of the fairy lights, creating an oddly-intimate setting. They each sat on their respective sides, backs rigid, intently watching the movie in silence. 

 

After about a half hour, Max stood and headed towards the door. Before leaving, she turned to meet Victoria’s puzzled gaze. “I’m hungry,” she said, offering up a sheepish smile and holding her stomach. “You want anything?”

 

“It’s just starting to pick up!” Victoria protested, amazed by Max’s apparent lack of attention span. Max just laughed and headed downstairs. 

 

She returned with pocketfuls of candy, dumping her stash onto the bed before sitting. This time, Max sat right beside Victoria, her thigh brushing against the other girl’s slightly. 

 

Victoria jumped at the sudden contact. 

Tensed. 

Relaxed. 

 

They continued to watch the movie in silence, save for Max’s munching. 

 

“Thank you,” Victoria murmured, breaking the silence. Her eyes were focused on the wrapper she was toying with in her hands instead of the movie.

 

“Uh… you’re welcome?” Max responded, clearly confused. 

It was just a Reese’s. Nothing too special about peanut butter cups. 

 

Victoria let out an exasperated sigh. As brilliant and talented as she was, Max was still incredibly  _ dense _ at times. “No. I mean thank you for being here with me, in Seattle. For being um… a friend,” she continued, letting out a cough. Nerves. She felt her throat closing up.

 

This wasn’t as eloquent as she planned it in her head. 

 

“You know… I don’t deserve any of this. Not you, not your time, your energy, your friendship-- none of it. I was a fucking  _ bitch _ to you in high school,” Victoria haughtily laughed, still looking down. “And yet… you’re still so kind to me. I can’t express my gratitude. Or how sorry I am. You deserved none of the shit I put you through,” Victoria finished, her eyes meeting Max’s for the first time. 

 

Max’s clear blue eyes searched Victoria’s cloudy hazels and found that the clouds were gone. 

 

Victoria’s eyes had tinge of vulnerability, a spattering of honesty. Tears glossing over, threatening to spill.

The walls were down. 

 

“It’s okay, Victoria,” Max began, reassuring the blonde. “Blackwell feels a million years away. I’m glad to be here with you now,” Max responded, her hand reaching out to rest over Victoria’s. She watched the other girl smile, so she responded with her own. Her thumb stroked the back of her hand for the rest of the film. 

 

The girls returned to their state of silence, eyes fixated on the tv. 

Except neither of them were really watching-- they’d both seen this movie a handful of times. Neither girl could take their mind off of the conversation they’d just shared. 

 

As the credits began to roll, Victoria cleared her throat, stretching her long limbs. “I, um, can sleep in the guest room. Or the floor. Whatever,” she began, tripping over her words. “It’s getting late,” she finished, eyes settling on the clock next to the bed.

 

It wasn’t even midnight. 

 

Max chuckled, shaking her head. Vulnerable Victoria was a  _ handful _ . An awkward ball of nerves. Adorable. Endearing. “No guest bedroom. You can just sleep in here… there’s room for the two of us.” 

 

Victoria’s eyes scanned the small room, pursing her lips but not objecting. Max headed to her dresser to change into pajamas, which cued Victoria to do the same. The blonde searched for a pair in her bags while Max changed in the corner across the room. Her eyes shifted upwards, settling on a half naked Max. Freckles dotted her back like constellations, glowing in the ambient lighting.

 

_ Jesus.  _

 

Victoria forced herself back into reality, getting herself changed and ready for bed. She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, arms crossed over her body. 

 

She couldn’t stop thinking about how  _ uncomfortable _ Max’s floor looked. 

She clambered to the floor, a grunt emanating from the back of her throat as she settled the best she could.

 

“Up here, V,” Max murmured softly, looking down at Victoria over the edge of the bed. She scooted to the side, pressing herself against the wall in attempt to make room for the taller girl. Victoria’s eyes widened slightly before she got up and slid into bed next to Max. 

 

“Goodnight,” Victoria breathed, her voice low. 

“‘Night,” Max responded, her breath tickling the nape of Victoria’s neck. 

 

She tensed. 

Max snaked her arm around Victoria’s torso, hugging her close. Her slow breaths tickled Victoria’s neck, her hair brushed against her skin. 

 

Victoria felt like she was on fire. Every nerve ending was set alight.

 

Max’s breathing grew even slower as she drifted into a slumber. 

 

Victoria relaxed. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes grew heavy.

And Victoria drifted fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.... it's probably best to tell you all now that i'm capping this fic at ten chapters. but who knows-- maybe it'll become a series! 
> 
> once again, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy!


	9. my november is right now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'november' by tyler the creator.

Victoria awoke to soft morning light seeping in through the window. 

 

Hm. Odd. 

Her bedroom was on the west side of the house; she never caught the sunrise. 

 

She tried to roll onto her other side to shield herself from the brightness, but found herself locked in place.

 

Okay. 

What the  _ fuck _ ?

 

Was it hot in here?

Victoria felt warmer than usual; she usually kept her bedroom ice cold. 

 

_...Was this hell? _

 

Max awoke to Victoria’s shifting and grunting and couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

 

“G’morning,” she murmured with lidded eyes and dopey smile. 

 

Victoria’s eyes shifted down to the fingers grazing her stomach and was brought back to reality. 

 

She was at Max’s house.

In Max’s bed.

And  _ no _ , it’s not what it looks like. 

(But it’s not like Victoria  _ hadn’t _ already considered it, either). 

 

“Morning,” Victoria replied, relaxing into Max’s embrace. “Do we really have to leave today?”

 

She could feel Max’s head nod against her back and frowned to herself.

She didn’t want to go. Max was so warm and soft and kind and beautiful and--  _ especially warm _ … she didn’t want to leave. 

 

She could stay like this forever.

 

* * *

 

 

Max didn’t want to leave. 

 

At first, she didn’t want to come to Seattle. Not under these circumstances, at least. She didn’t want to come to Seattle with Victoria. She didn’t want to come to Seattle for Nathan Prescott’s funeral. And now here she was, not ready to leave. She knew that she’d be back soon enough for Thanksgiving, but she had since come to a realization. 

 

Los Angeles was incredibly… _ lonely. _

A ghost town, even. 

 

Max could feel the presence of Chloe and Rachel egging her on; telling her to keep going, to keep creating, to keep living. For them. The city itself was full of life and vibrant energy-- it contrasted every aspect that was fundamentally Max Caulfield. She could feel the city coursing through her veins and yet something was missing. 

 

She listened to Victoria talk about how she liked New York. How it was miles better than Arcadia Bay, and even Seattle. She watched her bring cigarette after cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply before letting out a puff of smoke. Max knew that New York suited her. Victoria may have made an offhand comment about Max visiting sometime. Max may have considered her offer. 

 

She never had a problem leaving Seattle before. 

 

As soon as she found out that she’d been accepted to Blackwell, her bags were all but packed. Seattle was a city, but never a home. Max just lived here. Arcadia Bay was home-- always had been, always will be.

 

But something was different. 

Max focused the lens of her camera through the crack of the door, aiming for the perfect shot. 

Click. 

 

“You voyeur!” Victoria squealed, swinging the door open to reveal Max coyly shaking the developing polaroid. Victoria tried grabbing the picture from the smaller girl, but Max took off down the hallway, erupting in a fit of giggles. Victoria followed after her, refusing to fall too far behind. She eventually caught up to Max, who was sat on her bed. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, a small smile playing on her lips as she curiously analyzed the photo.

 

“You know, you really live up to your name,” Max breathed, an impish grin forming. At the confused quirk of Victoria’s eyebrow, Max began to explain herself. “You know… you  _ chase _ d me. Victoria _ Chase _ .”

 

Victoria snorted in response, rolling her eyes. Max was such a dork sometimes. But a cute dork. Adorkable? She shook the thought out of her head, holding out her hand. “Picture. Now.” 

 

Max refocused her attention on the photograph, a soft smile playing on her lips once again. “You have to promise not to rip it up,” Max instructed, her eyes locking onto Victoria’s. 

 

“No promises,” the blonde curtly responded, trying to snatch the picture from Max’s hands.

 

Max swiftly turned away, shielding the picture with her body. “You look beautiful,” she muttered, her eyes shifting to the photo once more.

 

Victoria paused, letting her arm fall to her side. 

Beautiful? 

She took a seat on the bed next to Max and peered over the brunette’s shoulder in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse. Eventually, Max turned, offering the picture to Victoria.

 

Wow. 

Max was so… talented. Magnificent. Amazing. 

 

Victoria carefully took the picture in her own hands, her eyes instinctively attempting to scrutinize. But for once, she had no criticisms.

 

The soft light reflected off her golden hair, creating a halo of sorts around her crown. It was a genuinely candid shot-- Victoria examining herself in the mirror. The lighting was soft and serene; she looked ethereal. It was simple. It was breathtaking. 

 

Max cleared her throat after the lengthy silence. “I uh, hope you like it,” she whispered, her eyes shifting to her feet. 

 

“Can I keep it?” Victoria asked suddenly. She didn’t know how to properly express her gratitude, her appreciation. Max simply nodded in response, beaming up at the taller girl.

 

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Caulfield, for allowing me to stay in your home,” Victoria began, hugging the Caulfields goodbye.

 

“You’re welcome here anytime, Victoria. It was our pleasure to have you,” Mrs. Caulfield gushed, giving the taller girl a tight hug. 

 

Max hugged her parents goodbye and promised that she’d call them more often. She promised that she’d be home on time for Thanksgiving. Victoria took on the whole scene with wide eyes.

 

They really loved each other. 

 

After another round of heartfelt farewells and the threat of parental tears, Victoria and Max hurried out of the house and jumped into the car. 

 

“Your parents are so sweet, Max,” Victoria said as she started the engine.

 

“Yeah, I guess I’ll keep ‘em,” Max responded with a shrug, buckling herself into the passenger seat.

 

“No, I mean they really love you.”

 

“Vic, your parents love you too.”

 

Victoria let out a cold laugh. “Max, be real. You met them.”

 

Silence.

 

“They… they just have a weird way of showing it?” Max politely offered.

 

Victoria turned the music up. 

She sped down the road, desperate to get to her house while her parents weren’t there. 

Max held her hand in silence, at a loss for words. 

Victoria parked the car in her garage. Called the uber for the airport. Got in.

 

And prayed that this day would never end. 


	10. say your goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'where do we go' by solange.

Airports were liminal spaces. 

 

It was this stifling, awkward, in-between space where time didn’t really exist. 

Except for the fact that it was incredibly scarce and with a blink of an eye, it was all over. Even if you rewinded over and over again and ripped the very fabric of the universe into mere threads, it would all be the same. Liminal. Empty. Scarce. 

 

Max’s flight was due to leave first; Victoria’s was to take off about an hour after. 

 

They had gotten to the airport rather early, mostly because Victoria was anal-retentive and didn’t want to run into any problems. They stopped and grabbed McDonald’s (to Max’s utter  _ surprise _ ) before settling down at Max’s gate. The two sat side by side, silently munching on french fries and sipping sodas while watching airplanes take off and land.

 

“This was fun,” Victoria said after a while, her eyes still fixated on the runway. Her voice fell flat, her eyes unblinking. She knew Max’s flight was going to start boarding soon. She knew as soon as Max was in line and down the gangway, she’d have to head to her own gate. 

 

She didn’t want Max to see her cry. 

 

Max hummed in agreement before rising to her feet, bags in tow. Victoria turned her head to glance up at the girl, clearly confused. Max smiled down at Victoria, offering her hand. 

 

“C’mon. Let me walk you to your gate.”

Before Victoria could protest, Max grabbed the blonde’s hand and pulled her to her feet. Victoria couldn’t help but huff a bit, but held onto Max’s hand nonetheless. Just being by Max’s side soothed Victoria’s nerves, but  _ god _ , this really fucking  _ sucked _ . She willed her long legs to take smaller steps-- anything to get to her gate a bit slower. Max simply hummed along, seemingly content as she swung their hands between them. 

 

And there it was. 

Gate 19. 

 

Victoria’s eyes burned.

“Well… I’ll see you around, I guess. Thanks for being here,” Victoria muttered, turning her back to Max and striding towards her gate. 

 

“Vic, don’t,” Max called out, quickly following behind the other girl. She grabbed her hand before she got too far away and spun her around so they were face to face.

 

“Don’t do this.”

 

“Don’t do what?” Victoria huffed, pointedly avoiding eye contact.

 

Max pursed her lips, her brow furrowing a bit as she concentrated on picking the right words. “I don’t want you to leave here upset.”

“Well too la--”

 

“Listen! Thanksgiving’s right around the corner, we can hang out then,” Max began, cutting Victoria off. “I… actually had a really good time. With you. And I don’t want it to end on a bad note. I don’t want us to get on our separate planes and fly across the country and go back to hating each other. I-I--”

 

Max’s nervous rambling was cut off by Victoria stepping forward and leaning down to hug her. 

 

“Okay,” Victoria whispered, her voice muffled by Max’s hair.

 

Max gave her one last squeeze before stepping back and getting a good look at her. “Okay?” she confirmed, offering a smile.

 

Victoria couldn’t help but laugh and nod. “Yeah. You’re… you’re right,” she agreed. Both could notice how difficult it was for her to admit that Max was right. They shared a knowing smirk. 

 

“I don’t want you to miss your flight,” Victoria finally said, her eyes dropping to her feet.

 

“But I don’t wanna go,” Max responded, her lips forming a tiny frown. 

 

Victoria let out a small laugh, which caused Max to throw her a sharp, yet confused look. “Uh, remember everything you just said? About not being sad?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Max quipped, shaking her head. Her eyes met Victoria’s once more and the two shared a sad but knowing look. “I’ll see you around, V,” Max said as she began to step backwards in the direction of her gate.

Victoria just stood there, lead in her legs and her eyes, watching Max. She felt as if she was in a cheap horror flick-- paralyzed with fear. One move and it was all over. 

So she just stood there. In the middle of the airport. People passing her by as her eyes bore into Max’s back. 

 

Max steeled herself as she turned her back on Victoria, her hands stuffing themselves into the pockets of her hoodie. Deep inside her pockets, her hands balled into fists, crumpling and crushing the delicate object inside.

But not destroying.

 

Max stopped in her tracks. 

She turned. She turned to see Victoria slowly turning away and heading for her gate.

 

“Victoria!”

 

Max all but ran towards the statuesque blonde, fumbling through the crowds and narrowly avoiding collision. She was soon face to face with Victoria once again, both of their eyes glossed over with tears threatening to spill over.

 

Max pulled her fist from her pocket and opened her hand to reveal the rumpled photograph.

 

“I-- uh, sorry it’s all crinkled up,” Max nervously began with a chuckle as she smoothed out the image over her jeans. “I… um- I took this after dinner the first night you came over. When you went outside to smoke. I caught you from the window and the moonlight was just right and--”

 

Max was interrupted by Victoria throwing herself onto the smaller girl, her long arms wrapping around Max’s neck. Victoria let out a shallow cough in a vain attempt to mask the tears that were now freely flowing from her eyes. She tried to steady her breathing. Max noticed; Max didn’t say anything.

 

“I… I don’t know what else to say,” Victoria whispered, her breath warm against the back of Max’s neck. 

 

_ “Now boarding flight 1131 to Los Angeles” _

 

Max reluctantly pulled away from the blonde as a voice blared over the loudspeaker. She placed the photograph in Victoria’s hand, offering her a somber smile. 

Victoria just stood there.

 

“...I’ll see you around.”

“Max… I-I--” Victoria began, her shaky fingers fumbling with the edges of the photograph.

And then she stepped forward and kissed her. Her hands caught a fistful of brunette hair as she kissed her and eventually, she felt Max’s body relax against her.. She felt Max’s lips move ever so softly against her own. She felt tears dot her cheeks that weren’t her own. 

 

And then it was all over. 

 

Victoria broke away before shooting an awestruck Max a smug smile. She slung her bags over her shoulder and turned away, albeit reluctantly. 

“See you around, Max,” she called out, grinning.

 

And with that, Max clumsily took off once again towards her gate, dopey grin plastered on her blushing face.

After all, she did have a flight to catch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...that's all folks!
> 
> in all honesty, it took me foreverrrr to write/edit/post this chapter. i wasn't satisfied with it! maybe i just didn't want this fic to end. i really do hope you all are at least satisfied with the ending!
> 
> i'd just like to thank you all for reading/commenting/supporting this fic. it really means a lot to me. i spent the entirety of my summer writing a fic that started off as a tiny idea in the back of my mind. your support has been absolutely overwhelming. 
> 
> i'm back at school now, but i'm working on another fic (or two!) that i'll hopefully be able to post at some point :^)
> 
> thanks again <33


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